within_the_wiresfandomcom-20200214-history
Cassette 3: Summer 1994/Transcript
This is the official transcript for the episode which can also be accessed for free at'' patreon.com/withinthewires''SIDE A Sigrid, I have a confession to make. You will perhaps be skeptical of me when you hear it, you will perhaps not believe what I’m telling you. You know me so well, you won’t believe me. I’m in Mexico, near a place called El Chorrito. I’ve met some incredible people and I’ve spent the last few weeks living with them, and taking in their approach to life. They’re a group called La Palma. You will be surprised, you won’t believe me – I almost don’t believe it myself, but I’ve become incredibly taken with their spirituality. I’ve never considered religion much, as you know. I’ve never thought much about rituals. They felt like a luxury, and we’ve never had much room in our lives for luxuries. I am well aware of Catholicism, but I was never a part of the church. Your grandmother, Brigette did not want her children raised in religion. She felt that designing a God or a savior simply removed the moral responsibility from humans, shifting it to an inexplicable being in the sky, one no one could question. Religion has always been a way to strengthen law, to make immutable the ethics by which we govern. Once the word holy has been embossed on the book, everything contained within is a weapon. Not a bullet or a blade, a weapon much worse, one that controls minds, shapes whole societies, keeps us from watching ourselves, for we are lead to believe we are always being watched. You know this about me, Sigrid. I have told you so before. So I’ll understand if you are shocked to hear that I am starting to see the value in religious practices. In La Palma, Catholicism still remains in bright reds and golds and blues adorning a tender mother in paintings, jewelry, on skin. But they do not preach, they have Bibles, but only for stories. For it is the mother, the virgin, the Lady who guides them, silent and understanding. Her hands held together not in prayer or praise but in blessing. Her head tilted down in deference to her flock. There is judgment yes, but a mother’s ruling, for she is something better than a saint or a god, she is a woman. A human. The food each night is blessed in prayer. Their leader, Paula, allows each member of the congregation to say words. Some feasts start with a few moments of blessing. Some feasts I have been told, have had over an hour of blessings. I say blessing, not prayer, because the words are lifted only to the ears of those at the table, not into an inconceivable heaven. Old rites and rituals of Christianity remain, yes, but they are there to empower the people, not just priests and bishops and popes, but the people themselves, the children, the parents. At the end of meals, all join hands once again and rise as one. They sing a song - a doxology - not to Christ but to all those who have prepared the meal. My first reaction was I think what you’d expect. Such blatant displays of sentiment when there is always so much to be done, and sentiment to what? To some unseen spirit you’ve chosen to believe has some kind of deep impact on your day to day life? They have changed the intentions of these religious practices, sure, but they are still engaging in praise. For all the humanity in their words and songs, God’s name was still invoked. There was still worship of some mystical creator who literally had nothing to do with food preparation or education of children. It never made sense to me, and that hasn’t changed much. But there's something deeper going on here. I don't know if I can explain it. I don't know if I understand it. There's so much unity in La Palma. This shared belief, these shared rituals… They've created something more. I'm not saying that The Cradle isn't united, of course we are, I'm just wondering if it's enough. If performing necessary tasks for survival is enough. If living off the land is enough. If protecting each other is enough. The Cradle is a collective. La Palma – they are a family, a belief, a unified faith in one another, even if they share some of that faith with a made up entity in the clouds. Family is supposed to be what we're all about, but I'm starting to wonder if we're really living that ideal in Hedmark. We have so much more to learn. We have so much more to become. I'm starting to question who we are. Not just what our goal is, not just what we can prove to the world. But who we are to each other. Where we fit in the universe. Do you have any dear friends, Sigrid? Is there anyone you love? Aside from me, of course. We talk so much about the bond between parents and children. But there are other bonds. Bonds between each other. Bonds with… ...something else, something of greater purpose. Does this sound like nonsense to you? I'm not sure it doesn't sound like nonsense to me. But somehow it won't let me go. Please do not start worshipping Jesus in the Cradle. I don’t think that is what I mean. And certainly don’t let Lisette hear any of this. Everyone in our family, maybe you, too, Sigrid, detests religion, and I don’t want my private ramblings to my daughter to undermine the work you are doing. Maybe I should have waited till tomorrow to send this. There's a specific ritual planned for tonight, one that's supposed to help people achieve clarity. I don't know the details but I understand it involves some kind of smoke and a communal bottle of something I thought was wine. But I am told it is much better. I'll be in touch again soon. Oh, and at last night’s feast I gave a blessing to you, my child, offering my wishes for your continued safety and success. I love you, Sigrid. SIDE B Blessings to you, my Cradle. I’m sorry, my friends, that it has been so long since I’ve been amongst you. I’ve been exploring this world of ours, finding a path toward our salvation as a family. We are, of course, not in any need of salvation at this moment, but we cannot stay safe forever. We cannot expect to just live life without finding a greater purpose. I hope in my absence, you are blessing your children and your neighbors not just with actions but with feelings, with spirit. Paint murals, write poetry, lift your voice in every medium to give thanks for all that we have, all that we do, and all that we will become. We have lived so long, my friends, striving to survive in a world that does not want us. In a world where we are forced to act against the established laws in order to preserve something too precious to be lost. And in our striving we focus always on what needs to be done. Our eyes are on what was in front of us to do. We keep ourselves warm, so we chop wood for the fire. We are hungry, so we hunt and farm. We are frightened by oblique movements in the shadows of the forest, so we hold tightly our knives. We focus on what is necessary, we focus on survival. But my friends, I have started to wonder if there were other things we were missing. Other necessary things. Our place in the world seems small, sometimes. Our little community, our little patch of land. Yes, our role here is big, our role is crucial, when the time comes we will have so much to teach those that have forgotten. But at the present, while we wait for such a time as we are called upon, our lives feel small, contained. But I am starting to believe that they feel small because we view ourselves as a tiny collective set against a large, wide Society, with laws and commandments that dwarf us, even as we ignore them. But our lives are only small in comparison when we view the Society as a Truism. As a force of nature. As a monolith It is not a monolith. It is massive, yes, but it is made up merely of people and words. Strange, individual people, each with lives as small as our own. A monolith is rigid, set in stone with all its laws and beliefs solid and unyielding. But people? People change. People are always changing. People shift and rearrange their ideas constantly, sometimes with astonishing speed, sometimes a great many people all at once. People change their minds. People change their beliefs. We can show the Society a new way of living and encourage them to question what they’ve been told. We must do this. We will do this. We will lift our voices not to a made up God, but to the ears of those who understand our plight, who themselves want freedom, want a family, want to share our space. We must do this and I believe we can do it – because I believe we are part of something much greater than a mere Society. The earth seems immeasurable, compared to our little wooded lake, but it is infinitesimal compared to the universe that grows beyond. Because there is something else out there. Some great consciousness, some great void. Something that is behind the furthest stars. Something that is beneath the most unnoticeable blades of grass. I feel something moving within myself in answer to that great unknown. Something that will restore equilibrium to our lives, that will bring about change in our Society, that will protect us without knives or guns, without hiding, or moving homes in the night. Something that will cast out the shadows of serpents in our water, that will disperse the whispers behind our trees, that will shine light upon our dark. Perhaps some of you feel it too. There is a call to arms coming for us, a call to rise up and save this broken place. Soon. But we must wait. And while we wait we will take action in a different way. We will remember that we are custodians of the land. We will remember that we are custodians of each other. We will nourish ourselves as a family, together each night. We will give back to the land that gives so much to us. I mean all of this in a very practical sense. Make sure the water is kept clean – both the water we use, and the river from which we take it. Do not waste, but make every possible use of the resources we have available to us. Take only what you need – do not hunt for sport, but only for the precise requirements of The Cradle. Replenish the earth by planting seeds that will lead to fruitful crops and harvests, but do not kill or resist those other creatures that will also make use of this bounty. And every day, show your appreciation for those who help our Cradle. Thank you Ole for your schooling. Thank you Bern and Anya for your food storage. Thank you Lisette for your guidance all these many years. There are so many more of you to thank. I hope you will conclude this… oh, let’s call it our version of a “sermon”... with these words and deeds. Turn to your neighbor and tell them. We have a responsibility to each other, to be greater than mere organisms. When we make our account – whether to this world, or some other, inscrutable understanding, whether of our own volition or because we are discovered unexpectedly – we must be able to say that we treated the land on which we walked with respect and compassion. We must be able to look each other in the eye and know that we elevated all of our lives as one. I hope to be back amongst you all. I hope to see your faces and hear of your lives. Until that time I ask for myself, and for you, that we are better able to see our place in this life, and comprehend where we belong in the greatness of this universe. I ask that we are attuned to any guidance that might be pointed our way, that we do not fail to listen to what we are being told, to see what we are being shown. I ask that we be protected as we slowly and carefully prepare ourselves for what may lie ahead. I ask that we understand ourselves to be part of a great plan. I ask that we understand that we are not alone or forgotten. I will return to my flock, soon. I promise. Category:Transcripts